


Pillow Stories

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn Battle, Rimming, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sucre bit his pillow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XII. Prompts: Orgasm denial, any: pillow

The first time, Fernando bites his pillow because he knows it’s gonna hurt.

Okay, okay, he doesn’t know _-know_ it. He’s never tried it before, after all. But he’s heard and seen things. None of them too pleasant: complaints and pained shouts and funny ways to walk.

It’s surprisingly... not painful. Not pleasant either, he wouldn’t go that far, but not painful. Warmth and soft pressure and Michael nibbling his neck. Shit. He’s not Michael’s bitch, he’s a female cat held down by her mate. Being cat-like fits Michael, in half a dozen of bad and good ways.

—

The second time, Fernando bites his pillow because he did it the first time, and he doesn’t know what to do with his mouth anyway.

Yeah. He’s not going to share _that_ thought with Michael because, face in the damn pillow and tongue tasting cheap cotton, he can already picture the smirk on the Fish’s lips.

It’s not only not-painful, this time. There is some tingling and twitching and things going on down there that...

So he bites his pillow, y’know?

—

The third time, Fernando bites his pillow because, before cramming both of them into his bunk, Michael whispers that he’s out of anything useful to... ease his way in.

Fernando rolls his eyes. His cellmate spends more time in the damn infirmary than Doc Tancredi herself, but he can’t get his hand on some jelly or lotion? The trademark smirk is firmly in place when Michael pushes him down face first and proceeds to demonstrate a creative way to make up for the lack of lotion.

Fernando is pretty sure there are places where tongues are not supposed to be.

On the other hand, as long as it’s not _his_ tongue...

—

The fourth time, Fernando bites his pillow because they switched.

By switching, he means... yes, this kind of switching. He’s on his back, Michael’s knees on each side of his hips, their chests touching as the Fish leans down and – this comes from someone who doesn’t curse in vain – _holy fucking Hell_. Heat and tight and velvet.

He pushes the thin pillow against his mouth and digs his teeth into it, leaving messy spots of spit on it. In the half-darkness, Michael is looking down at him, a tiny bit demon-like, a tiny bit cat-like. Fernando would love to be able to look daggers at him, but it’s kinda impossible when liquid fire licks down your spine and shoots out of your...

So he bites the pillow.

—

The fifth time, Fernando bites his pillow because Michael is a sneaky bastard.

Every time tonight that Fernando is about to, well, reach fulfillment, Michael stops whatever he’s doing that makes Fernando see stars – no, really he thought it was crap, but he can see tiny shiny stars – and squeezes those long fingers of his around him.

It’s more than okay the first and even the second time. Hot. The third time, though, Fernando considers slugging him down. He doesn’t because slugging him down would take care of his frustration but would only worsen his other issue.

“I want to hear you,” Michael eventually whispers against the side of his face.

Fernando looks at him wide-eyed over his shoulder, _this_ close to calling him _loco_.

“You and the frigging whole Gen Pop block, Papi.”

Michael rolls him onto his back, gives him a soft kiss Fernando doesn’t know how to react to, and resumes what he was doing.

“No, just me.” His mouth is hovering over Fernando’s, his hands are around his face and channeling the small gasps and grunts and pleas wrenched out of Fernando’s throat. He says, “Just me,” again and does this trick, where his hand and his dick move in so damn perfect synch’ that...

Fernando comes biting Michael’s shoulder.

-Fin


End file.
